


Confession

by xxDustNight88



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-19 01:41:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9411806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxDustNight88/pseuds/xxDustNight88
Summary: What should have been a romantic love confession turns into a Valentine's Day massacre of heart-wrenching proportions. Forced to return to the Death Eaters, Draco finds himself graveside, grieving what could have been and praying that not everything is what it appears to be.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SecretAdmirerFicExchange](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SecretAdmirerFicExchange) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
> Setting: War AU where Draco has defected to The Order and he and Hermione are at Grimmauld Place. Draco has developed feelings for Hermione and decides to confess on Valentine's Day. 
> 
> Story must include the following: Long stemmed red rose; green organza bow; cream sheets; raindrops; boom!

Walking down the gravel path, Draco raked a hand through his damp hair. The rocks crunched under his boots, the only sound as he made his way through the deserted cemetery. Stopping at the end of the path, he sighed heavily, looking skyward and closing his eyes as raindrops poured down onto his pale face. Inside his heart was breaking, the ache so painful he was fairly certain he wouldn’t last until the morning. He would have to endure.

Memories flooded his mind the longer he stood there, bombarding him to the point of madness. It would not do well to linger in these dark times, so stealing himself, Draco stepped from the pathway and into the sodden grass. Out of instinct, he made his way through the scattered tombstones, looking for one in particular. His heart pounded the closer he moved towards his destination, an uncertain fear bubbling up inside of him. He knew what would be waiting, so there was no reason for such worries, but there was no escaping this...this _heartache_.

Arriving at his destination, Draco inhaled sharply, the scene in front of him making him falter. There, at the base of the tombstone lay a single long-stemmed red rose. Glancing around, he tried to see if he was, in fact, not alone, but no one was there. Once again memories rose to the forefront of his mind, and this time, he let them consume him…

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Grimmauld Place was a hive of activity that morning, Harry and Ron having returned from a mission just after dawn. Draco sat sulking at the table in the kitchen, trying to blend into the background. He hated when the two were there, everyone fawning over their every need. Mostly he hated that they ended up monopolizing _her_ time. Scowling even further, Draco quietly stood from the end of the bench and made to move towards the door. He was keen to disappear to his room upstairs, hoping to hide away until Potty and Weasel set off to find yet another horcrux.

Walking along the edge of the kitchen, he avoided eye contact with the others, hoping to make a clean break. Just before slipping from the room, Mrs. Weasley spotted him and gave him a small smile accompanied with a nod. The woman had taken a liking to him, or least to his well-being, since he’d defected nearly a year ago. She seemed to be the only one that understood how uncomfortable he felt when his schoolmates were around. She would find him later, without a doubt, and force him to eat some sort of breakfast. Just as he was starting to climb the stairs, he heard footsteps in the hall below.

“Draco?”

She called out, stopping him his tracks. Without turning around completely, he glanced over his shoulder at her, trying to ignore the feelings in his chest. “Granger?”

“Oh, um…I was just wondering where you were going. You know, why you didn’t stay for breakfast. Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine—just tired,” he lied, and by the way her eyes narrowed, she didn’t believe a word he said. Nevertheless, she let it go, giving him a smile.

“Okay. I’ll see you later then.” With that said, she turned and re-entered the kitchen, leaving Draco to his own devices.

Sighing heavily, he resumed walking upstairs, wishing that she didn’t have to pay so much attention to her friends. He understood her obligation though, but that didn’t change the fact that he would miss her presence today. Reaching the landing, he turned down the hall and made for his bedroom, ready to seek the solitude that it provided. Well, when Hermione wasn’t joining him in the late afternoons to read or research that is. In an effort to make Draco feel more welcome, Hermione had started spending a few hours here and there with him about six weeks into his stay at Grimmauld Place.

He was more than grateful, her reluctant friendship helping heal old wounds and easing his way into the fray that was The Order. While he wasn’t an official member, he was allowed to know bits and pieces of information. Although, he was still forbidden from leaving the safety the old Black home provided, Lupin and Snape too afraid of what would happen if he was captured by the Death Eaters and forced to turn against them once more. Hermione took pity on him when the others wanted nothing to do with him, and now…now he was tolerated.

Entering his room, he shut the door behind him with a snap and headed straight for the bed. Flopping down onto the cream sheets, he tried to ignore the scent of jasmine, a reminder of when Hermione had fallen asleep there the night before. Their reading session had lasted much longer than usual, her head falling to rest on his shoulder as the night wore on. He hadn’t even minded that her abundance of curls invaded his space or that she occasionally bumped his arm when she turned a page. When at long last her eyes had fallen shut and her breathing became slow and deep, Draco had gently maneuvered her until she was lying on the bed next to him.

She was gone when he awoke that morning, but he’d not been surprised. Not when he learned that Potter and Weasley were back. They always took precedent over him, and probably always would. With a groan, he rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling. He could hear the voices from downstairs carrying upstairs, muffled by the distance and door. Rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, he tried to get Hermione out of his head. She was always there, making him question everything, and causing an odd stirring in his heart. One he was blatantly trying to ignore. 

He must have fallen asleep, because sometime later he was awoken by a gentle knocking on the door. He startled, jumping from the bed and reaching for his wand. The door opened slowly, revealing Hermione’s bushy head and concerned face. She raised one eyebrow at the wand that was pointed in her direction, so he quickly dropped it before perching himself on the edge of the bed.

“Sorry,” he apologized quietly, glancing away from her. “I was asleep and wasn’t expecting anyone.”

“It’s alright,” she replied, coming inside and shutting the door. “I came to check and see if you wanted to come down for lunch.” When she saw his hesitation, she quickly added, “Harry and Ron have gone to nap. They’re exhausted from their mission.”

“Right.” He nodded, not particularly caring about them, but appreciating the fact that Hermione knew why he was hiding in his room all the same. “I’m not really that hungry, to be honest.”

“I thought you might say that,” she giggled, surprising him by pulling a sandwich wrapped in plastic from the pocket of her jumper. “Molly asked me to bring this up for you.” She moved forward and set it on the bedside table. It was then that Draco noticed something else sticking out of her pocket.

Pointing, he asked, “What have you got there?” She glanced at where he was indicating, and he watched as her cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

“Um…this…,” she mumbled, pulling out the small package topped in a green organza bow. “This is a gift from Ron…for Valentine’s Day.” Biting her lip, she avoided his eyes before shoving it back into her pocket.

“Oh.”

“Yeah…”

They were both quiet for a moment, the space between them filled with an uncomfortable sort of silence. Draco started to wonder if he should say something about the way he’d been feeling. Maybe she noticed it too? Did she miss him when she went back to her room at night the way he missed her? Did she hurry to breakfast each morning with the hope of seeing his face like he did hers? Did she want to see what his lips felt like against his…because most nights all he could think about was whether or not her kisses were gentle and sweet or frantic and hot?

As the silence stretched on, Draco could no longer ignore the feelings churning inside of him. So as Hermione turned and headed for the door, mumbling something about seeing him later, he reached out and took her by the hand. She glanced from where their hands were connected to his face, a puzzled expression clouding hers. With no idea when or where the urge came from, Draco decided to reveal how he was truly feeling even though she probably didn’t feel the same.

“Granger, I have a confession to make,” he began, stepping closer to her body so she was forced to look up into his eyes. Swallowing back his fear, he just went with his gut, not wanting her to walk out that door and into Ron’s waiting arms. “I’ve come to enjoy the time we’ve spent together since I came here, and I want you to know that I—I’ve developed feelings for you…” He trailed off unsure if he’d just made a huge mistake or not, but knowing there was no taking the words back now. It was true, he did feel something for her, far stronger than friendship, even though that is where it started in the beginning.

As she continued to stare up at him, saying nothing, he began to worry he’d been too forward. It wasn’t until he felt her squeeze his hand with reassurance that he let out the breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding all that time. Her brown eyes sparkled as a grin lit up her round face, and his trepidations began to melt away.

“Draco…I’m so glad you’ve told me this because I have been meaning to talk to you—”

BOOM!

From that second onward, everything changed. His memories fragmented and warped to the point where he didn’t know what was real and what was just pieces of disjointed dreams. After the initial shock of the explosion, he remembered running downstairs with Hermione leading the way, only to find the entire front of Grimmauld Place missing. Fire was beginning to devour the old tapestries and paintings, igniting everything in its path. Order members were shooting spells every which way as they battled the masked Death Eaters. Panic like no other caused Draco to freeze where he was on the staircase, watching in horror as Hermione ran forward into the battle.

How was it possible that such destruction was happening right in front of his eyes so shortly after he finally opened up to Hermione? At some point he realized it was Snape leading the attack against the Order, and that Lupin lay dead at the foot of the stairs. Fire. Blood. Screams. Blasts of green light. It was terrifying. It was a nightmare. It was the beginning of the end.

He tried to move, to fight, to help, but he was in such shock that he could do little but send stunning spells at his enemy. Later he would remember thinking, _Where the fuck are Potter and Weasley?,_ but in the heat of the moment, he had no idea where anyone was or what they were doing. His only instinct was to survive, to get out alive…and make sure Hermione did the same.

But then things took a turn, all hope vanishing in the blink of an eye. One moment he could have sworn she was there pulling Fred to safety, and the next…her body was crumpled on the sidewalk outside. Pain shot through Draco as he dropped to his knees, pulling her into his shaking arms. As he pushed the tangled curls out of her face, he realized her coloring was all wrong. She was too pale, far too pale. A quick glance of her body sent him reeling.

There was blood…too much blood…and it was pouring from a wound on her stomach. He begged, _pleaded_ with her not to die, to stay with him, but there was just too much damage. Within minutes, she was gone. The next thing Draco knew, Snape was yanking him to his feet, ignoring the bloody mess that stained his clothes, his hands… They apparated to ‘safety’, but he would now have to pretend to be a Death Eater, Snape having been forced to return to Voldemort’s side. Everything was in ruin…the wizarding world…his defection…his heart…

_Hermione_.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

That was one year ago. And now here he was standing over her grave on Valentine’s Day, wondering who the hell had put that rose there. Sinking to his knees, he made to reach for the damned flower. That was when he heard it, the rustling of a cloak. Rising to his feet, he extracted his wand from within his robes and pointed it at the culprit. His legs nearly buckled underneath him as his brain registered the face standing just behind the tombstone.

Against his better judgement, he squeezed his eyes closed briefly before reopening them. As his vision refocused, he knew it was not a dream—what he was seeing was real. There, her curly hair plastered to her head in the pouring down rain, stood Hermione. She was clearly crying, her shoulders shaking as she tried to contain herself. His mind was reeling, unsure of what to do. Was she here to kill him? Was she here to rescue him? He put away his wand.

“I have a confession to make,” she whispered, her voice laced with tears as she repeated the words he said to her one year ago. Stepping around the tombstone, she held out her hands in desperation. “I needed to make it believable—you had to think it was true, or they would have killed you, and come looking for me.” A sob escaped her trembling lips, and she frantically brushed at her eyes, trying to clear her vision despite the rain that continued to fall in torrents.

He stared at her in disbelief, the months of torment he’d endured making him wonder if this was a dream. Stepping backward, away from her crying form, he shook his head. “No—No, this can’t be happening. I watched you—” His own voice broke, a strangled sound fracturing the silence. “I watched you _die_. I watched you bleed out in my _fucking_ arms.”

“I know, Draco—I _know_ , and I am so, _so_ desperately sorry.” She took a step forward, but he backed away. Her face fell, arms coming up to wrap around her middle as if holding herself together. “Draco… _please_ …you have to understand…it wasn’t me you saw die. It was a Death Eater who’d been forced to drink polyjuice potion.”

His anguish turned to anger, silver eyes flashing. “Why?! Why would you do such a thing!?”

She flinched, but met his furious gaze as she explained what happened. “We had to go into hiding…someone sold us out. Harry, Ron, and I…we faked our deaths and disappeared so we could find and destroy the last of the horuxes in secret.” She was crying so hard now that her body was quaking, teeth chattering in the freezing cold rain. “We’ve done it…we can defeat him now.”

“No, Granger,” he practically growled. “I don’t give a shit about the damn horcruxes! I want to know why you did this to _me_! Why did you fake your death for _me_?” He was breathing heavily as he watched the clarity appear in her eyes, her shoulders sagging as his harsh words cascaded over her like the falling rain. He swallowed heavily, his throat tight with emotion. She stepped closer to him, and this time, he didn’t move away. Instead, he waited for her to answer him, heart beating loudly in his ears.

“Because I love you,” she whispered, words barely audible over the storm. Brown eyes met silver, waiting for him to process her confession, one she’d started a year ago and been unable to finish. “If he knew about my feelings for you, he would have used it to his advantage…”

There was a truth to her explanation, one Draco couldn’t deny. _Because I love you…_ The words echoed in his head, tearing at his heart. He’d spent the entirety of the past year yearning to hear those words from her mouth, wishing for one more second with her, one more night curled up in his bed at Grimmauld Place reading until the wee hours of the morning. And now here she was, back from the dead and pouring her soul out to him in the middle of a dilapidated graveyard.

He had two options: one, turn his back on her and return to Malfoy Manor where he was expected to prepare for the final battle alongside Voldemort, or two; accept what Hermione was clearly offering to him, a chance to be with her and fight alongside the Order. There were pros to both options, cons as well, but in his heart, he knew there was only one real choice he could make.

Reaching out, he grabbed hold of Hermione and tugged her into his arms. His hands tangled in her matted hair as he gazed deeply into her wide eyes. His heart was nearly bursting with happiness after feeling so much pain for so long. There were many things he wanted to say to her in that moment, but he went with the most simplest of expressions.

“I love you too,” he whispered, his words a mumbled confession against her parted lips. He kissed her then, pouring everything he had into the embrace. She kissed him back fiercely, her hands carding through his hair. When at last they parted for air, Hermione gave him a tender smile before taking his hand in hers and apparating them away.


End file.
